


Tucker & Sons Towing & Auto Repair

by c0smicqueer



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Fluff, Fluffy, Gay, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Present-Day AU, Slow Burn, flat tire, very gay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:20:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 15,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26693614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/c0smicqueer/pseuds/c0smicqueer
Summary: present-day malcolm/trip fic wherein malcolm is a lit professor; trip is a mechanic. big fluffy feels.i dont own st or the characters. i'm just making them gay or whatever. dont sue thx
Relationships: Malcolm Reed & Charles "Trip" Tucker III, Malcolm Reed & Travis Mayweather, Malcolm Reed/Charles "Trip" Tucker III
Comments: 109
Kudos: 38





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> who's writing another fic with multiple chapters that havent been written and therefore aren’t ready for release even though i have a few other fics in the same boat? couldn't be me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> flat tires suck.

The sun is low in the sky, the golden hour just before sunset approaching. The air is warm and sweet and heavy with humidity. A red 1999 Honda Civic speeds down HWY 231 S toward Panama City, Florida. The windows are down and the wind is whipping through short, dark hair. There is a loud pop noise followed by a rhythmic thump-thump-thump, and shaking in the steering wheel.   
  
“Damn.” 

The car pulls off into the shoulder, hazard lights blinking, and the acrid smell of burning rubber scenting the air. The door opens and a man steps out. He is of average height, slim build, and has dark, cropped hair. He is wearing loose army-green cotton pants, a thin, dark brown short-sleeved button shirt, dark brown trainers, and dark rectangular sunglasses. He walks around to the back of the car and opens the trunk. He pulls out two suitcases and sets them aside, then opens the compartment to get out the spare tire to find that the spare is also flat. “Damn!” He puts his luggage back in the trunk and returns to the driver’s seat and falls into it, flustered.

“It’s a bloody Sunday! No shop is going to be open at this time of the evening!” With a huff, Malcolm pulls out his cell phone and searches for “Auto shops Open Near Me.” The first six shops listed are closed. “Open tomorrow morning at 8 am. How convenient.” He groans angrily and keeps scrolling.

“Finally! Thank God one of them is open. Tucker & Sons Towing & Repair?” Malcolm scrolls through some of the featured photographs on their page on Google Maps. There is a photograph of the shop with a group of tall, blond-haired and blue-eyed white men. They look like they could be grandfather, father and son - easily related to one another. They are arm-in-arm, smiling brightly at the camera. Malcolm felt a bit of discomfort, being stuck in the middle of Nowhere, Florida, 45 minutes from civilization, a flaming-homosexual, and alone. 

“Here goes.” He taps the “call” button and the line rings. 

“Tucker’n Sons. This is Trip. How can I help ya?”

“Er, yes. I have caught a flat and need a tow, and a replacement tire.”   
  
“What kinda vehicle are ya drivin? I need the color, make, an’ model please.”   
  
“I am driving a red 1999 Honda Civic.”

“Classic. Thank ya. Alright, a tow’ll cost ya seventy-five dollars, and the price of a flat fix or tire replacement and balance are variable. Do ya know what size tires ya have?” 

“I am not certain.” 

“If ya take a look at the tire itself there will be a sequence of numbers on the sidewall. But I can just take a look and give ya a quote when we get ‘er in, alright?”

“That sounds nice, thank you.”

“Alright! Where’re ya at?”    
  
“That’s a bit of a guess. I am on Highway 231 South.” Malcolm looked around, surrounded by fields. “I believe I passed a fresh seafood business a few miles ago?”   
  
“Ah, that’ll be Angler’s. I know just where yer at.”   
  
“Wonderful.”

"Stay put. I’ll be there with a truck in about fifteen minutes.”    
  
“Well, I cannot go anywhere. That’s why I’ve called you.”   
  
“Don’t worry, I’ll be there’n a few. Bye now.”

Malcolm huffed and scrunched his brow. He turned the car on and rolled up the windows, praying he could keep the still, wet humidity of the Floridian summer at bay until the tow truck showed up. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> trip & malcolm meet bc of some unfortunate circumstances.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ah yes the meet & greet. the set up. they are vvv queer. love them. my boys.

The sun had finally dipped just below the horizon, painting waves of golden and ruby tones across the atmosphere. Malcolm gazed at the sky and let his thoughts wander. He took in his surroundings - mostly flat and grassy with sparse foliage and trees. It was a miracle the ocean was so close - all he could see and smell of the area was swamp. There were trees silhouetted in the darkness of dusk and a chorus of cicadas and grasshoppers and frogs.  _ Charming, really.  _ Malcolm had yet to get used to Florida, a place so alien compared to Leicester. 

Twenty minutes had passed and the dark-haired man was growing more impatient by the minute. “Where could the blasted man be?” He huffed, batting loose strands of his hair off his sweaty forehead. The rumbling of a diesel engine in the distance caught Malcolm’s attention and he looked up to see a tow truck approaching in the distance. “Thank God.” He sighed.

The truck was a classic model Chevrolet. It had shiny candy red paint, chrome trim, a modified metal grill with a pulley attachment, and a massive full length tow bed. Clearly it was refurbished, though Macolm couldn’t understand why such an expensive truck was actually being used to tow cars in the middle of Nowhere, Florida. As he pondered the possibility of scratches in that perfect red paint, the truck approached his car and the driver maneuvered it into position to load up the little Civic. 

Once into place, a tall, strong framed man climbed out of the cab. He was about six feet tall, had shaggy, short dirty blond hair, bronzed skin, and what appeared to be aqua eyes. He had a huge grin on his face for some reason Malcolm couldn’t work out. He was wearing a pair of well-fitted and well-worn light wash blue jeans, dark brown work boots with scuffs on the toes, and a light blue, untucked short-sleeve button up with a patch that had the Tucker & Sons logo on the top, and “Charlie” embroidered underneath. 

Malcolm got out of the car and walked toward the truck, pausing at the end of the hood of his car, a few feet away. He sat gingerly on the hood, waiting for instruction, or a savior. He wasn’t sure which.

“I ‘spose it’s safe to assume yer Malcolm Reed with the Civic?” The blond man stopped at the edge of his truck and leaned against the end of the bed, smiling. 

“Yes, I believe that is a safe assumption.” Malcolm stood and stepped forward, extending a hand. “Malcolm Reed. It’s my pleasure to make your acquaintance...Charlie?”  _ I could swear _

_ he used a different name on the phone. _

“Charles Tucker the Third at your service. But my friends call me Trip. The Third, triple, Trip. You get it.” He clasped the dark haired man’s hand in his own. He felt his rough callouses brush up against the soft skin of the other man’s hands, eclipsed by his slightly dirty, larger palm. He squeezed softly and then met his eyes, holding his steel grey gaze for a moment before turning to the controls on the truck bed.

Malcolm blinked slowly in thought and let the large man with a Florida panhandle accent squeeze his hand very, very gently and then let go.  _ Was he just staring into my eyes?  _ Malcolm had expected a much more aggressive handshake and greeting, not whatever this was. “I see. Nice to meet you, Trip.”

“The pleasure’s mine, Mr. Reed.” He flashed a smile. “Now hold on just a second. This is gonna get a bit loud.” Trip worked the machine so that the tow bed raised and then lowered at what seemed to Malcolm like an extreme angle such that the car could be driven onto it. It only took a few moments before Trip started giving orders. 

“Do ya mind getting back into your vehicle and turning it on and putting it in neutral please?” He asked, voice loud but gentle. 

“Er, of course.” Malcolm briefly returned from his reeling and put the car in neutral before letting his mind slip again. Who was this gentle giant? And how could he be so gentle with such a butch job? It didn’t compute. He wasn’t anything at all like Malcolm had experienced in an auto mechanic. Not whatsoever. And, while he hadn’t spent much time in the American South, he had been in San Francisco for a handful of years and heard plenty of horror stories about this area. Well, the South at least. Maybe he had been led to think that the South equaled outright homophobia and a place to be feared, when so far he had experienced much more hate and vitriol in San Francisco and even London than in Florida.  _ What a world. _

“Alright, my turn! You can have a seat in the cab if you like. It’s a little hot out here. There’s a cold bottle of water in the cup holder fer ya.” Trip opened the door for Malcolm and watched him get out. The dark haired man scrutinized him skeptically before making his way to the truck. Trip attached some heavy duty straps and other equipment to the car’s frame to secure it to the tow bed, then used the controls to pull it onto the bed. He secured the car and the bed and then returned to the cabin to take this beautiful British stranger and his beat up old Civic to his shop.  _ Damn, what a world. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank u for reading. i really appreciate it & any interaction u have with my writing especially comments so i get to know ur thoughts. i enjoy the ent fandom so much & am so so happy to be part of this fandom. anyway love y’all thank u again


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A tiny spat.
> 
> cw- brief mentions of violence and death but not actually plot points or a thing in the story

Now that the tiny, old Honda Civic had been loaded onto the tow truck and secured, Trip joined Malcolm in the cab. “Alright! We’re all set.” 

“Jolly good.” The dark haired man replied bitningly.

Trip raised an eyebrow, a bit put off by the man’s tone. “Would you like some water? It’s pretty hot out there tonight. Might help ya cool off.” 

“I never said I was hot. I am fine  _ thanks _ .” Malcolm’s tone was still sour. One of his defense mechanisms was venom, and being in such close proximity to  _ hicks  _ in the middle of  _ nowhere  _ had set him off. He was pondering whether this man was going to assault him, when his thoughts were broken by his voice. Malcolm pulled his gaze from the window and turned his head to face the other man. His cheeks were flushed and his eyebrows were screwed up in frustration.

“Alright, well I’m not sure what’s goin’ on with ya then.” He paused and took a deep breath, trying to moderate his tone. “I’m just doin’ my job - towin’ yer car so I can fix ya up. I’m not really sure what I’ve done to offend ya. I try to provide the best quality service and be as pleasant as I can but I’d appreciate if ya didn’t talk to me like that.” He stared hard at the road in front of him, silent now that he had asserted himself.

Malcolm, unused to being directly called out like that, let his jaw drop. He wasn’t sure what he had expected. Maybe the man could have pulled the truck off the road and fought him, or ditched the car and shot him and hid his body in the swamp, or just assaulted him for fun. He had worked himself up at the idea of being harmed by a stranger while alone and particularly queer in a semi-rural area that he hadn’t realized he was projecting that energy directly onto the person he was afraid of.  _ Damn.  _

Another five minutes passed, Malcolm caught up in his thoughts and Trip resolutely ignoring the venomous Brit. Staring out the window, Malcolm realized that they were going the direction opposite of the way he had been traveling. He pulled out his phone and realized that Tucker & Sons was thirty minutes in the wrong direction. They had only been driving for ten minutes and he had already pissed the other man off. 

Malcolm eyed Trip for a moment, then picked up the bottle of water nearest him in the cup holders and took a drink. He sat it back down and placed his hands in his lap, trying to bat away the anxious thoughts. “I apologize. I am quite stressed over this flat in the middle of my move.” He paused, knowing that was a terrible excuse. “I shouldn’t have talked to you like that - it isn’t your fault.” He stole a sidelong glance from Trip and then returned his gaze to the window when the man didn’t respond. 

After a few minutes, Trip sighed and looked over at Malcolm. “Thanks fer that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pounds hands on table MAKE THEM FIGHT MAKE THEM FIGHT 
> 
> these absolute dinguses are so Petty


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys are getting to know each other better. Sort of.

The truck drove steadily North on Highway 231 as the sunset gave way to darkness at their left. The windows were down and Malcolm could feel the cooling humid air wash over him as they made their way to Tucker & Sons Towing & Repair. The cabin was filled with the rush of wind but was otherwise silent.

“Ya said yer in the middle of a move?” Trip’s voice broke the reverie. His face was open and curious now that Malcolm had apologized for his rude tone. He glanced at Malcolm again before he fixed his eyes on the road, one arm in the open window of the truck and one hand firmly fixed atop the steering wheel. 

“Mm.” Malcom muttered in response, not knowing what to say or how to say it without backtracking into uncomfortable territory. His gaze stayed on the road ahead, praying they made it to the auto shop without any further conflict or unnecessary discomfort. He just wanted to get his tire fixed and be on his way.

“Where are ya movin’ from?” Trip queried.

“Tallahassee.” Malcolm deadpanned, voice quiet.

“ _Tallahassee_?” Trip asked incredulously. 

“Well, I recently moved from San Francisco to Tallahassee.” Malcolm offered plainly.

“That still ain’t makin’ a lick o’ sense.” Trip muttered haughtily. 

“And why is that?” Malcolm’s voice piqued, confused.

“Yer British.” Trip said, as if it were obvious.

“British people can’t live in San Francisco?” He huffed angrily and crossed his arms over his chest, staring at Trip like he was an alien.

“I didn’t say that!” Trip’s voice raised a notch, frustrated.

“Are you sure you didn’t insinuate it, sir?” Malcolm scoffed and looked away, irritation dripping from his voice.

“Well ‘scuse me! I was sayin’ it don’t make sense because goin’ from San Francisco ta’ Tallahassee don’t explain why yer here now!” Trip’s voice was just as strained as Malcolm’s, if a tad louder.

A pause filled the cabin. “Sorry.” Trip grunted. “So, why’re you in our tiny town?” He turned his head to look at Malcolm for a moment. The dim light of the console shone on his soft pale skin, illuminating him in a blue-tinted hue. 

“Alright.” Malcolm sighed. “This summer I moved from San Francisco to Tallahassee to be with my sister before I made my actual move to Panama City for a new job.” He shrugged and batted his hair out of his face, then rolled up the window. 

“So ya spent the summer with yer sister and are movin’ to Panama?” Trip asked genuinely.

“Yes, that’s what I said.” Malcolm shot back, still angry with the interrogation.

A silence fell over them for the next ten minutes or so. Each man remained determinedly quiet and stared at the road, outright ignoring the other. 

“Allllllright.” Trip groaned and rolled his eyes. “We’re here. Let’s get ya fixed up.”

“Oh.” Disarmed, Malcolm let his arms drop from his chest and rest in his lap. An embarrassed blush crept into his cheeks. “Right. Thanks.” 

Trip pulled the truck up to the front of the building. The garage doors were all shut except one, but a yellowish light shone through the windows in the doors, and the waiting room was illuminated. Malcolm could see a counter and a seating area in the main office, and an older man at the counter. 

“If ya just go in there and talk to Mr. Tucker, he’ll get ya started on the paperwork. There’s more water, popcorn, and a vending machine if ya need anything ta eat. I’m gonna get yer little Civic into the shop and see what’s goin’ on.” Trip pursed his lips and exited the cabin. Malcolm followed suit and meandered inside. 

“Welcolme ta Tucker n’ Sons! Nice ta meet ya! I’m Charles.” The older gentleman came out from behind the counter as Malcolm entered the waiting room and offered a hand. They shook amiably. Mr. Tucker looked Malcolm up and down appraisingly and smiled. “You must be Mr. Reed?” 

“Er, yes.” Malcolm blinked and stared at the man with an unreadable expression.

“Yer here with the Civic, right? If you’ll follow me over here we can get the paperwork sorted out while Trip gets a diagnosis and a quote fer ya. Does that sound alright, son?” 

“Yes, that sounds lovely, thanks. I just want to get back on the road as soon as possible.” Malcolm sighed and followed the man to the counter where they faffed about for a few moments. Mr. Tucker asked Malcolm a series of questions and then left him to make himself comfortable in the waiting room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FIGHT MORE. wow they're so spicy. so spicy. trip just wants to be friends. malcolm is bristly. trip is also bristly. also i live for your comments. (also, i'm writing this one in smaller chunks b/c it has so far helped to stave off the writers' block!)


	5. Chapter 5

Malcolm could hear the mechanical noises of the tow truck as Trip offloaded his car. And he could hear the thump-thump-thump of the ruined tire as he took it into the shop. He hadn’t been to an auto shop in what felt like forever and had forgotten just how loud it could be. He surveyed the waiting room. It was obvious from the decor and the style of the building that it had been there a long time - it was likely that it was established and opened in the sixties. The whole front facade was glass with a big hand-painted sign - red and white with dark blue shadows edging the red letters. The chairs were decidedly “mid century modern,” all plastic and metal and sleek. The walls were adorned with old fashioned signage from brands like Ford Motors and Shell Gasoline.  _ Quaint. Charming, even.  _

About ten minutes later, Trip came through the door to the shop. His hands were now blackened with dirt from the tire, he had a dark smudge on his snub nose, and there was sweat beading on his forehead. The yellow light from the shop door silhouetted him perfectly for just a moment, and then the door closed heavily behind him. 

“Sorry, but the tire’s not salvageable. Ran on it too long while it was flat. Plus whatever it was that popped it went right through the sidewall.” Trip shrugged and looked apologetic. No one likes to have to buy a new tire. 

“Just my luck, eh? That’ll be alright.” Malcolm sighed and stood from his chair as Mr. Tucker suddenly appeared behind the counter from an office door. 

“Tire ate it?” He asked Trip, smiling sadly.

“Yessir. He’ll be needin’ a new one.” Trip jerked his head in Malcolm’s direction and winked. “I’m gonna go an’ get the tire off the rim so Im ready when y’all settle on a new one.” He smiled warmly at Malcolm and disappeared back into the shop in a whir of motion and energy. Malcolm raised his eyebrows, surprised at how quickly the man’s mood changed from irritable to amiable.

“That boy’s sure somethin’. Twenty nine years old and still as lively as when he was a youngin’.” Mr. Tucker chuckled affectionately and motioned Malcolm to look over the counter with him. He had pulled up a list of tires they had in stock in his size. “You’ve got a few options, Son.” He showed them in ascending order by price.

“I appreciate thoroughness, sir, but I will save you some time. Please charge me for the cheapest tire you have. I really need to be on my way.” Malcolm smiled and sighed. 

“Can do. With the balance and the tire yer lookin’ at $108. Are ya’ payin’ card or cash?” 

“I have cash, thanks.” Malcolm fished his wallet out of his pocket and handed the money over. They exchanged change and signatures and Malcolm sat back down in the chair he had picked earlier and waited to be free from the mess of this experience and onto the highway. He was ready to start his new chapter.

Trip came through the shop door again, cheeks red from the humidity in the garage. “Y’all come to a decision?” Trip grinned.

“Yeah, Son, he’s gonna get the Goodride, SKU 3765. It’s a 185-65-R14. Should be in there on the tire shelf-“

“Bottom right, I know.” Trip cut him off. He rolled his eyes and huffed. _I've been workin' here since I was fifteen! I know where everything is. Hell, I unload the trucks! I organize the damn shop!_

There was a pause and Trip turned to Malcolm. “I’ll have yer little Civic fixed up and in the parking lot in twenty minutes or less.” He smiled and then disappeared back into the shop. 

Mr. Tucker laughed. Malcolm cocked his head and smirked. “He sure seems in a hurry to get rid of me, eh?” He deadpanned.

“Nah, that boy’s just determined.” He laughed again. “You did say you needed to get on the road, right? Where ya goin’?” He asked casually. His voice was soft and his countenance so open Malcolm wasn’t offended at his prying.

“I’m moving to Panama City. Just had this little hiccup or I would’ve been getting in settled for supper. I suppose I’ll be ordering take out now.” He mused. 

“Oh there’s some damn good food in Panama! Excuse my language. If ya like seafood ya oughta order from my brother! He owns a little shop right on the ocean that serves fresh caught fish every day. Name’s James. His restaurant’s named Tucker’s!” 

“I’ll be sure to look him up. Thank you for the recommendation.” Malcolm nodded gracefully. He wasn’t a huge fan of fish. 

After a few minutes of silence, Mr. Tucker bid him adieu and disappeared into the office. Fifteen minutes later Malcolm heard the rev of an engine and two small honks. The headlights of his car shone through the wall of glass, and Trip parked the little car right by the front door. He shut off the lights and came inside. The door opened with a characteristic ringing of bells.

“Alright, Mr. Reed. Yer vehicle is all fixed up an’ ready ta’ go.” He walked right up to Malcolm, brushing his knee with his own. He held out his hand with the keys placed directly in his palm. “Here ya go!” He smiled a huge dopey grin, somehow electric in the soft lighting of the room. Malcolm gingerly took the keys and waited for the man to step back so he could stand. But before Trip moved, he pulled out a business card and handed it to Malcolm. 

“That’s my card. Yer tire came with insurance. If anything happens to it in the next fifty thousand miles or one year - whichever comes first - you can call us and we’ll get ya fixed up free of charge. My cell number’s underlined. Call me if ya ever need anything.” He offered the card to Malcolm between two fingers. Malcolm first eyed the card skeptically and then the man’s face. There was nothing suspicious there - just radiance. Uncertain, he took the card anyway. It was the only way to maintain decorum. Only once he had put the card in his pocket did Trip move out of his way. 

Malcolm got up and thanked Trip and then walked out the front door without looking back. When he got in his vehicle he could smell the scent of the auto shop. Chemical, dirty, but not overpowering. He rolled the windows down and adjusted his seat and mirrors. Finally, he emptied his pockets, stuffing his wallet in the console. Trip’s business card fell out onto the seat. He picked it up and examined it for a moment. It was simple and white with black text. It read Tucker & Sons in the same style as the hand painted sign out front, and had Trip’s name - Charles Tucker III - and his cell number in the timeless Times New Roman. He had underlined it in purple gel pen, and there was a little smudge at the end where he’d held it while it was drying. “Call me - Trip.” He had scrawled underneath the number. Malcolm smirked. It all made so much more sense.

Now, he had forty five minutes to drive in the dark to get to his new apartment. He looked up before backing away and saw Trip, that beautiful, tall, daft blonde man leaning against the counter watching him with a huge smile plastered on his face. They made eye contact for only a second and Trip waved animatedly. He shouted something but Malcolm couldn’t hear. He smiled and bit his lip, and raised a few fingers in a goodbye before driving off into the darkness of the summer night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAHAHAHAAHA THIS IS IT BOYS WE'RE GETTIN' THERE!!! i'm a sucker for them i hate itttt


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> malcolm finally makes it home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let's play find the pineapple

“Finally!” Malcolm flipped the light switch just inside the door of his new apartment. There was an older ceiling fan-globe light combination in the center of the room that cast dim, diffused light over the emptiness. The walls were a horrendous beige-cream color, and he could see spots where the handymen had spackled and repainted after the last tenant. The floor was carpeted in an even uglier beige than the walls. It was small - a one bedroom, one bath with a tiny kitchen, but it was enough. And it was home for at least the next ten months of the school year. Malcolm had taken over a friend-of-a-coworker’s lease. He had only seen the apartment through images and didn’t much care what it looked like so long as it served its purpose of getting him housed and quickly. That it did.

Malcolm closed and locked the door behind him. He slid off his shoes, left them near the door and dropped his bags. He walked through the living area, passively inspecting the space, noting where he could put his furniture and hang some of the artworks he had shipped with his things from San Francisco. For now he had only a few bags - a week of outfits, a few blankets and a twin size air mattress, and the necessary toiletries. His thoughts wandered as he walked into the kitchen. It was attached to the living space, separated by a wall with a large window and a door frame missing a door. “Southern American architecture. Windows  _ inside. _ ” He shook his head and walked in. There was a long counter with brown wood cabinets above. The countertop was eighties style melamine. He ran two fingers along the surface - it was clean. The sink was ceramic, cream colored and tarnished from age. The fridge was the same. Shabby, but usable. 

Malcolm opened a door off to the side of the kitchen and it led into a laundry room that opened to the single bath. He could see a tiny shower with frosted glass doors, a small sink with a cabinet underneath, and what appeared to be an old vanity mirror that did not match the interior at all. “I don’t think they understand what renovation means here,” he mused to himself. The laundry room was outfitted with the newest appliances in the apartment - a small stack-style washer and dryer set. There were shelves for storage and a coat rack. He moved through the bathroom and found another door to the bedroom. It was small and empty. It had the same ceiling fan-light combination as in the living room. He flipped the switch on. Nothing new or eventful revealed itself, so Malcolm walked through the room and back into the living area through the bedroom door. 

“Well,” he addressed the empty apartment. “I’m home!” He chuckled happily and grabbed his bags, then headed to the bedroom to get settled for the night. He blew up the air mattress, laid out his blankets, and found his phone charger and plugged his phone in. He stripped down to his underwear and wrapped himself in his blankets and then sat cross-legged on the air mattress. “Let’s find something to eat.” Malcolm tapped on his phone for a few minutes, finally settling on Tacos al Pastor from a well-rated local taco shop. “Twenty five minutes and I’ll be happy as a clam.” He smiled, opened his favorite playlist, and closed his eyes. He leaned against the wall and relaxed into the first night in his new home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is heavy on detail & light on plot. sorry -- im trying to segue in a way that makes sense!! also fwiw im breaking up the chapters at about 500-600 words so the pacing makes some sense. next chapter should be more Actual plot.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> trip gushes over malcolm.

Mr. Tucker opened the door to his office as the little Civic puttered away. “Alright, Son. It’s time to head out. Can you lock up fer me tonight?” He walked out toward Trip with a briefcase in one hand and his keys in the other.

“Like always, pops. I’ll see ya bright n’ early.” Trip smiled and patted his father on the back, following him to the door. He locked it behind the man and smiled as he left.

Trip moved to the shop, closing and locking the bay doors and picking up any loose dirty rags or trash. It was pretty trashed but he’d be in early and get the morning crew to help out before Mr. Tucker showed up at nine. Distracted, he paused and pulled out his phone. He dialed the number and held the phone to his ear, tapping his fingers against his thigh impatiently. 

“Hey! Yeah I know it’s late but I gotta talk to you about something.” The words tumbled out of his mouth. 

“What’s up?” The voice returned.

“You gotta see this guy!” He almost yelled with excitement.

“Trip…” An exasperated voice escaped the speaker.

“He’s  _ gorgeous  _ and was wearin’ this really stylish but simple outfit and—“ Trip had started pacing now, walking a line between two car lifts, leaving a trail of oily boot prints on the floor.

“Whoa, slow down.”

“His shirt had this v-neck thing going on and I could see—“ The blood was rising into his cheeks and his eyes had gone a bit glossy. 

“Where is this coming from, Trip?” The voice was clearly frustrated, now, having listened to Trip’s tirade for too long.

“I don’t know where he came from. Well, actually he said Tallahassee and San Francisco but he’s British and he’s got this amazing accent—“ Opting to move his nervous energy elsewhere, Trip had found himself walking toward the room with the air compressor.

“Aren’t you at work, Trip? I can hear the air compressor running.” Trip shut off the air compressor with a loud clink of the metal lever, followed by a deafening whir, and then silence.

“Yeah but listen,  _ Jon— _ “ 

“Trip, you’ve got to stop falling for your customers. They come in one time when they’ve got car trouble and you’re head over heels—“ Jonathan Archer’s voice was beyond irritated at this point. He’d heard roughly the same story every month for the last decade. A pretty face would find their self needing a tow or a mechanic. Trip would come to the rescue. He would fall in love and get burned. It was a never ending cycle.

“Jon! He told me he just moved to Panama.” Trip’s voice was intense. He walked back through the shop and double checked all of the locks before leaving through a side door. 

“So?” He scoffed.

“Jon, I spend half my time in Panama! Keep up!” Now at his beat up old pickup, he clambered in and drove toward home. 

“I know that Trip, but what’s your point? Are you just going to walk around the city every waking hour you’re not working in an attempt to find this man?” Archer asked incredulously.

“No, Jon. Don’t be stupid. I’m not gonna stalk anybody!” The old Silverado turned off 231 onto a gravel side road and sped into the darkness. Trip turned on his brights, scanning for deer. 

“Then what are you going to do?” Archer sounded bitter.

“I gave him my phone number.” He said, matter of fact. 

“You really think he’s going to call you?” He really couldn’t believe it. This man couldn’t give it up.

“I’m countin’ on it!” Trip laughed and pressed the glowing red “End Call” button on his phone and pocketed it. He parked the truck in a dirt driveway and opened the truck door. It creaked loudly then it shut firmly behind him. Heavy booted foot steps climbed a set of worn wooden stairs to his front door. He opened it and made his way inside for the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GONNA MAKE THEM HAVE FRIENDS  
> welcome to the fold, jon  
> trip is such a mushy babe


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> malcolm runs into someone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO FRIENDS i am BACK. this fic is not dead! just. slow. slow burn, slow writing, slow everything. unfortunately, as im writing this i have covid (12/19/20), so just from that you can probably tell the last few months have been intense. sorry to leave yall on such a long hiatus. but! classes are over for the time being and im actually ok just getting back into writing on some fics. i've got a lot in store for this fic & cant wait to update more for yall. <3

Malcolm held in his hand a list of all the things he needed to outfit his new apartment. He intended to use the day for shopping so he could get situated before the real work week started. First stop, the Famous Value Big Box Store for a few household essentials like cleaning supplies, bathroom necessities, and some things for the kitchen, like easy but healthy meals. “Always the pragmatist, Reed,” he muttered to himself as he perused the produce. He moved off into the rest of the store, picking things up here and there as needed.

The harsh, buzzing lights were starting to get to Malcolm. He grabbed a box of trash bags off the shelf and chucked them unceremoniously into the very full grocery cart and pushed it by its very blue handle toward the front of the massive retail store. “I will never understand how they make these places or how people come here every week.” He scoffed, gazing around at large families with two carts, random teenagers laughing and picking up toys and candy, and throngs of college-aged youths with carts very similar to his own, some accompanied by their parents.

Right as Malcolm turned the corner out of the aisle with the trashbags, another cart ran into his from the opposite direction. “Sorry, I didn’t see you there.” He offered, backing up so the other person could get through. 

“Malcolm?” A familiar voice called out from behind the crashed grocery cart. A tall Black man appeared from behind the shelves. He was dressed in dark grey sweatpants, a navy blue t-shirt, and an open, black zip-up hoodie. His hair was cropped and faded, his features sharp, and a smile swept across his face. “Malcolm! I didn’t think I would see you until the faculty meetings next week! Get over here!” The man pushed his cart aside and walked up to Malcolm, arms open wide for a hug. Malcolm obliged and wrapped his arms around the smiling man’s waist, letting himself be wrapped up in a warm bear hug. 

“Travis.” Malcolm said softly after they pulled apart. “I didn’t expect to meet you in this godforsaken place. But it’s good to see you.” Malcolm smiled warmly, holding onto Travis’s wrists for a moment before letting go and returning to his own grocery cart. 

“I would ask what you’re doing here but it seems we’re doing the same thing.” He chuckled and nodded at Malcolm’s hoard of objects. “How are you settling into your new place?” Travis asked, leaning against the tall metal shelving. 

Malcolm shuffled a bit and shrugged. “It’s a bit sparse, but it will do. I’m just gathering some things to make it a bit more homey while I wait for the rest of my belongings to be shipped from San Francisco. They should be here before classes begin. I suppose I’ll be unpacking for a while.” He smiled gently. 

“Well, I’ll let you get back to it. I’ve got to grab some more things and head out. We should get coffee before classes start up. Are you free on Wednesday at around noon?” Travis asked.  
“Yes, I’m free then. Do you know anywhere I can get a good cup of tea?” Malcolm asked slyly. 

“Yes, of course. We’ll go to a little place called Millies. It’s small and comfortable and they make a mean London Fog. I’ll text you the address and I’ll see you at noon on Wednesday.” Travis extended his hand and smiled.

Malcolm took Travis’s hand and they shook before parting ways.”I’ll see you then, Mr. Mayweather. May you find what you need and get out of here quickly.” Malcolm chuckled and headed to the cash registers to do the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there will be many more people added to the fold in this fic, honestly. just. im just very here for travismalcolm friendship. i want to see it fleshed out much more and so here is some brotherly love between them <3 more actual substance to follow eventually i promise.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> malcolm & travis catch up.

The little red Civic pulled over into a small parking space on the street just outside of a cafe. A mauve sign hanging above the door read “Millies” in pleasant white cursive. It had beautiful, open storefront windows and Malcolm could see plants lining the sill and hanging from the window frame. As Malcolm got out of the car, the smell of strong coffee and baked goods wafted from the open door. He pocketed his keys and phone and ambled in, searching for a place to sit. Travis Mayweather was already seated at a small, round table. It was made of a nice cherry wood, stained dark. In the center was a small vase with fresh cut wildflowers. There were two glasses of cold water, condensation dripping off of them in the heat of the Floridian summer, and two small menus. Travis stood up and pulled Malcolm into a hug as he approached the table. “Malcolm! Glad you found the place okay.” 

Malcolm pulled away after a moment and made himself comfortable across the table from Travis. “It was quite easy to find, actually. I’m figuring this little town out.” He smiled and looked down at one of the menus. “So glad they serve food as well. I’m famished.” 

“Oh good, they have the most wonderful beignets and some pretty good sandwiches.” Travis offered, pointing at photographs of lunch specials. “So how have you been? How was your trip?” 

“Mm,” Malcolm muttered as he perused the menu. “Oh, it was alright. The drive from Tallahassee to Panama was quite uneventful until about thirty minutes out of town.” He smirked.

“Oh? What happened thirty minutes out of town?” Travis asked, leaning in.

“Blasted flat tire! And even my spare was flat. It was a pain in my arse. One hundred dollars later and I’ve got a new tire.” He shrugged. “It’s all settled now, though, thankfully.”

“Wow, right outside of town too. Glad you were able to get fixed up.” Travis offered, tapping his menu idly.

A waiter appeared as their conversation lulled, pen and notepad in hand. “Hey y’all. Can I get ya started with some drinks?” They asked.

“I’ll have a cold brew with cream please,” Travis smiled. 

“Sugar?” The waiter asked.

“No thank you.” He replied. 

“And for you?” The waiter looked at Malcolm.

“Do you have tea?” He asked.

“Sweet er unsweet?” The waiter replied quickly.

“Oh, do you have hot teas?” He asked.

“Yessir, we do.” The waiter chuckled. “Much different’n sweet tea.” They smiled.

“Truly.” Malcolm smirked. “I would like an Earl Grey, please.” 

“Any cream or sugar?” The waiter asked.

“Cream and sugar on the side please. Thanks.” Malcolm nodded and smiled.

“Alrighty. I can get those drinks put in for y’all. Are ya ready to order now or would you like some time?”

“I’m ready if you are, Malcolm.” Travis said.

“Go ahead, Travis.” Malcolm offered, gesturing for Travis to order first. 

Travis ordered a sandwich and soup combo and a plate of beignets. Malcolm ordered a small Cobb salad. The waiter took the menus and disappeared to the kitchen to put in their orders, and the men settled back into a quiet conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you like it. very soft boys being friends. going to keep writing their friendship because it makes me smile. i think i'm going to update the tags. anyway. lmk what u think/ ur predictions!


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trip harasses Jon.

“It’s been forever! I’m tired o’ waitin’.” Trip whined, rolling his head back in exasperation.

“Trip, it hasn’t even been a week. Will you give it a rest?” Jon placed a white Styrofoam cup filled to the brim with black coffee on the counter and fiddled with a stray work order. He had come in at Trip’s behest to get his tires rotated and balanced – an excuse Trip often used to get his best friend’s attention when he was feeling antsy.

Trip tapped the screen on his phone with his thumb. It illuminated, showing a photo of Trip and his dad holding a sea bass between them. The digital clock on his screen read 12:00 pm, Wednesday, August 19th.

“No, I ain’t gonna give it a rest. I swear ta you an’ God he’s gonna call me. I’m countin’ on it.” Trip sighed and pocketed his phone.

Jon rolled his eyes and huffed. “Whatever you say, Trip.” He held out his hand to Trip expectantly. “I’m hungry, Trip, and I have to go into town to grab some things. Where are my keys?”

Trip’s eyes lit up slyly. “I’m not givin’ you yer keys unless you let me come with. Where are we goin’?”

“Come on, Trip.” Jon groaned.

“Look Jon, you knew what you were gettin’ into when you came to the shop. I’m a package deal. Today is Jon and Trip day now. Now where are we goin’?” A wide smile crept across his face.

“I was going to go to that little café you showed me last summer to grab a sandwich or something before I head up to the university to talk to Admiral Forrest.” Jon sighed and took a swig of his coffee.

“Sounds good. Lemme make sure I’ve got everything.”

Trip scurried from behind the counter and ducked into the shop. His voice called over the sounds of the air compressor and the air tools, cars being worked on. “Hey y’all, I’m grabbin’ lunch. I’ll be back to close up this evenin’.”

He came back through the door to the shop and poked his head into the office behind the counter. “Hey pops, I’m goin’ ta’ lunch with Jon. I’ll be back in a few hours.”

Jon could hear Mr. Tucker grunt in acknowledgement. “Don’t be gone all day, son.”

“I won’t!” Trip lied, striding toward the door with Jon’s keys in hand. “Alright, Jon, let’s go.”

Jon stood, chugged the last of his coffee, and deposited the Styrofoam cup in a waste bin before following Trip out the door to his car.

Once outside, Jon managed to pry his keys out of Trip’s hands and take a seat behind the steering wheel. Trip could be an overbearing, almost controlling friend sometimes, but Jon knew how to keep him in line. As he drove out of the Tucker & Sons parking lot he turned the radio on. A sports talk show came through the speakers. The sounds of the radio hosts analyzing the most recent water polo match between San Francisco State College and Caltech droned through. 

“Come on, Jon, we don’t need to listen to the game right now!” Trip whined from the passenger seat. 

“Shut up, Trip!” He countered, laughing. “My boys are gonna beat the snot out of Caltech!” 

“Whatever you say, old man.” Trip rolled his eyes and then pressed the button to let the window down. Warm summer air poured into the cabin. “Now that’s more like it.” Trip rested his arm in the window and stared into the open road as Jon drove them into Panama. 

At about 12:30 Jon’s black Chevrolet Malibu pulled into a spot on the street behind a little red Civic.

“Millies!” Trip whooped. “I’m gonna get the pulled pork!” 

“Alright, Trip. I’m sure they’ll fix it up nice for you once we actually get inside.” Jon rolled his eyes and headed toward the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh BOY /pounds table/ LET'S GO


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malcolm & Travis catch up at Millie's over tea and sandwiches.
> 
> *CW - homophobia & coming-out mentions. Nothing too painful really.

“So what have you been up to, Travis? How do you like Panama?” Malcolm asked, stirring cream and sugar into his steaming cup of Earl Grey. 

“I love it here. The warm weather, the people, the program.” Travis smiled and took a drink of his cold brew. “I’m learning a lot. My classes have been pretty good so far, if a bit on the heavy side but that’s what I signed up for.” He took a bite of his sandwich, leaving Malcolm to fill the empty air.

“How are your parents?” Malcolm started in on his salad. 

“They’re alright. We’re situated on the base, have been for a few years. They’ve really made that house into a home. Mom’s got her knick-knacks everywhere. A bunch of baby angels and stuff. It’s not even Christmas - she just keeps them up year round.” He laughed softly. “Dad’s busy with work all the time. I’m not really sure what he’s up to right now, something big I think. He’s been pulling fourteen and fifteen hour shifts some days.” 

Travis tilted his head to the side in thought for a moment. “Honestly I don’t know if he’ll ever slow down. He’s always been like that - a workaholic.” He sighed softly. “What about your family, Malcolm? How is Madeleine, and your parents?”

“Mads is fine. She and I spent quite a few weekends driving to the gulf when she could manage the time off. The beach was nice. She showed me some of her research papers as well. That woman has got such a marvelous brain. She’s going to do great things.” Malcolm took a deep breath before continuing. “The parents are much the same as ever. My mother stays busy doing whatever around the house, reading novels, ignoring my father. My father has been doing whatever it is he does with the Navy. He’s still got a stick so far up his arse…” 

Travis laughed just as he was taking a drink and started to cough a bit. Malcolm offered him a napkin and stifled a chuckle. “He really hasn’t taken it well that I have a PhD in literature. He seemed to think that I would have come about and taken to the Navy, but I truly am not going down that road no matter what he expects.” 

“Yeah,” Travis sighed. “Parents can be so rigid sometimes.” 

A lull came across the table and the two men sat in comfortable silence while eating at the rest of their food for some time. When they were done, Travis finished his cold brew and looked pensively at Malcolm. “Something is on your mind. What aren’t you telling me?” He looked expectantly at Malcolm, waiting for him to spill.

“I came out to my family this summer, Travis.” Malcolm’s face was unreadable. 

“Oh. Really? How did it go?” Travis fought down a well of anxiety pooling in his stomach. He knew the answer before Malcolm could say it.

“Not well, really. I’m unsurprised. Unphased, even. Mads already knew. She apparently caught me snogging a boy in Secondary and never mentioned it.” A short laugh escaped Malcolm’s lips.

“I love Madeleine!” Travis whooped. “But what about your parents?” Travis placed a hand on one of Malcolm’s in a gesture of comfort. 

“My father didn’t reply and hasn’t mentioned it. It’s business as usual. My mother asked me if she would ever have grandchildren between Madeleine being so caught up in her research and me being, and I quote, queer all of the sudden.” Malcolm’s eyes fell to his plate and he pushed a stray leaf of lettuce around uncomfortably. 

Travis tsked. “That sucks, Malcolm. I’m sorry. You have other family too. I love you, my parents love you. Madeleine loves you.” 

“I know, thank you, Travis. I love you too.” Malcolm wiped away what looked like a stray tear and looked up at Travis with a small smile. His face opened up a bit and he started to laugh. 

“What is it, Malcolm? Why are you laughing?” Travis asked a clearly confused expression overtaking his face.

“I actually got someone’s phone number this weekend.” 

“Already?!” Travis looked shocked at first and then cackled. “You move fast, Mr. Reed.” 

Malcolm pulled out a business card from his wallet and handed it to Travis. “Fast? Me? I haven’t called him!” 

Travis looked the card over. “Tucker & Sons?” He threw a questioning glance at Malcolm. “No, not the mechanic from the shop!” 

Malcolm laughed.

“Charles Tucker the Third sounds bougie.” He paused and flipped the card over. “Purple pen, nice. What does Trip mean?” He held the card up and made a face. 

“It’s his nickname, I think.” Malcolm chuckled and took the card back before returning to his tea.

“What does he look like?” Travis asked earnestly.

“Oh god. He’s your height. Dirty blonde hair. Muscular.” Malcolm paused.

“Yeah, because he’s a mechanic?” Travis raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t know you had a thing for butch guys.” He chuckled.

“I don’t have a type, Travis.” Malcolm shot back. “I wouldn’t call him butch exactly.” He paused for a minute, pondering the man from the shop. “I don’t even know him. I can’t typecast him!”

“Well, call him.” Travis countered. “Then you might get to know him really well.” He smirked and cackled as Malcolm's face reddened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Following a pretty general arc of Malcolm's family being homophobic. Except Madeleine bc she's perfect obviously. Just rewatched s1e12 silent enemy to remember how his family was & tbh still frustrated w/ the Reeds. Anyway, I already have the next chapter written and am starting on the one after. I promise things speed up just a little bit after this. Love the slow burn tho


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Formalities force Malcolm to reckon with something.

The doors opened with a characteristic ringing of bells. Two tall men strode in and were seated at a table near the front windows by a waiter.    
  
“Here are some menus, y’all. What can I get ya ta’ drink?” The waiter asked.

“I’ll have water and a coffee, black. Thanks.” Jon said, taking a menu and settling into his chair. 

“No need for a menu. I’ll take a sweet tea and a pulled pork sandwich, please.” Trip quipped.

“Alright, sounds good. Do you know what you want ta’ eat, sir?” The waiter asked Jon.    
  
Jon looked at the menu for a moment and then handed it back to the waiter. “I’ll have a turkey bacon club with a side salad, please. Thank you.” 

Trip smiled and stared out the window for a moment before looking back at Jon. He looked like he was figuring something out. His gaze turned back to the window almost immediately and his jaw dropped. A blush crept across his cheeks.   
  
“What is it, Trip?” Jon asked, confused. “What are you looking at?” Jon followed his gaze out the window.

Trip looked back out the window and pointed to the little red civic. “That car.” 

“What about that car, Trip? It’s just an old civic.” 

“That’s his car, Jon.” Trip started to fidget wildly in his seat. He looked out the window, scanning the street. “That’s his car.”

“You said that already, Trip. Whose car is it?” Jon asked. Then realization dawned on him. “Oh God, do you mean-”

Trip stared at Jon for a moment and then looked away, gazing around the room. “Jon.” Trip’s face lit up as his gaze settled on the back of Malcolm’s dark head. “He’s sitting right over there.” 

“Are you kidding me?” Jon followed Trip's line of sight to the table where Malcolm and Travis sat in conversation. He could see Travis talking with his hands and smiling. Malcolm’s back was to him and they were far enough away that he couldn’t hear them beyond a murmur of their voices. He turned his attention back to Trip shortly. “Don’t stare!” 

Trip straightened but kept his eyes on Malcolm. Regrettably the waiter reappeared and blocked his line of vision. They sat the drinks down in front of the men, and then the sandwiches. “Y’all are all set. Can I get ya anythin’ else?” 

“No, thank you.” Jon smiled warmly at the waiter while Trip craned his neck around them to keep staring at Malcolm. 

The waiter smiled and walked over to Malcolm and Travis’ table. Malcolm turned ever so slightly in his seat and looked up at the waiter, smiling. Trip’s jaw dropped, confirming with a final stolen glance that it was in fact Malcolm sitting at the table only feet from him. His blush deepened.

“Earth to Trip!” Jon scoffed. “Could you be any more obvious?”

“What? Oh.” Trip closed his mouth and turned his attention back to Jon. “I can’t believe it really is him.”

“Eat your sandwich, lover boy.” Jon snarked, digging into his club. 

Trip busied himself with his sandwich, trying desperately to get a better view of Malcolm and failing. Just as he finished, the two men across the room stood up to leave. They walked shoulder to shoulder, laughing and talking. As they approached, their voices grew louder. Trip could hear them talking about someone. 

“I’m telling you,” Travis said through a laugh. “It could be fun, y’know?” 

“I’m not sure. I’ve got a lot going on,” Malcolm countered, still blushing.    
  
They were getting closer to the door. Trip averted his eyes, staring Jon down. He had a huge smile plastered on his face and was trying to hide it and failing. He wasn’t going to embarrass Jon, but that was the only reason he had taken his eyes off the stunning British man before him.   
  
“Leave it alone, Trip. I swear…” Jon shook his head and gulped his coffee, anticipating Trip’s inevitable outburst. He prayed Trip kept quiet, but knew better than to get his hopes up. Jon looked up as the two men began to pass the table. The taller man looked at him and smiled. His face looked familiar. It dawned on him that he had seen the younger man in the Naval program at the university. The man slowed and a sense of recognition crossed his face.   


“Lieutenant Archer?” The man paused for a moment and the other stopped next to him and turned. 

Jon sighed.  _ Shit. It’s going to be my fault Trip doesn’t keep his mouth shut.  _ He glanced at Trip and gave him a look that told him to shut the hell up before meeting the younger man’s eyes.    
  
“Mr. Mayweather. It’s a pleasure.” Jon stood and extended a hand. Travis took it and shook. 

“It’s nice to see you, Lieutenant! I was just here catching up with a friend. This is Dr. Reed. He’s just been hired on as Assistant Professor of Literature at the University.” 

Malcolm blanched.  _ Oh my god, no.  _ His sense of decorum overrode his horror and he mustered a smile. “Malcolm. You can call me Malcolm, Lieutenant Archer. My pleasure.” He nodded and shook Jon’s hand.

“And this is my friend Trip.” Jon gestured at Trip who had already stood, beaming. 

“Nice ta’ meet ya, Mr. Mayweather.” They shook hands. 

“Hi Malcolm.” Trip’s smile was so big it almost reached his ears. “Good ta’ see ya again.” 

Travis looked at Jon, then Trip, then Malcolm, and then Trip again. A grin grew on his face almost as large as Trip’s. Knowing Malcolm was likely dying from embarrassment, he let go of Trip’s hand and placed one on Malcolm’s shoulder. “We were just getting going. It was really nice to see you though, Lieutenant. I hope you enjoyed your lunch and I’m sure I will see you around!” 

Travis ushered Malcolm outside to his car, trying to make up for having caused the awkward interaction. Once they reached Malcolm’s driver seat, he dove right in. “That was him!” 

“It was.” Malcolm looked mortified. 

“You’ve got to call him now, Malcolm, I swear.” Travis’s voice was fast and excited. 

“Travis-” 

As Malcolm was about to brush him off, Trip exited the café and walked up to Malcolm’s car. He paused at the trunk, waiting expectantly to talk to Malcolm. Jon was still inside, presumably paying for their lunch.

“Come on, Malcolm. I’ll see you later. I’ve got to get going. But you’ll be fine. Just talk to him.” He gave Malcolm a quick hug and jetted to his car down the block, laughing unceremoniously along the way.    
  
Malcolm groaned and turned to face Trip, keys in hand. He wasn’t sure if he should just get in his car and drive away or face the attractive man who had given him his number just days ago. He didn’t have to think long before Trip closed the distance between the two and leaned on Malcolm’s rear door.    
  
“So.” Trip said awkwardly, trying to contain his excitement. “What’ve you been up to?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy holidays yall


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malcolm gets cornered.

Malcolm fidgeted with his keys. The man’s stare was so intense.  _ What’ve I been up to? I’ve been up to nothing! Absolutely nothing. Just spiralling about my new job, living in a new place, the lateness of my things, the million things I have to do before work begins.  _ Malcolm took a deep breath and tried to steady his voice. “I was out to lunch with a friend this afternoon. As it appears you were also.” He pursed his lips, feeling awkward about the whole interaction. 

“I was,” Trip offered. “That’s my best friend, Jon. We’ve been buds for a decade. Yer friend knows him?” Trip asked, prying for more information. That younger man was very attractive and he wanted to know if Malcolm was avoiding him, already interested in someone else. 

“It appears to be so.” Malcolm responded. “He’s never mentioned Lieutenant Archer before, but we don’t talk much about Navy-related things.” Malcolm sighed.  _ This is so awkward.  _ Small talk broke him. It was like a date, but without the added benefit of having dinner paid for, or the promise of snogging, or a movie, or something. This was something completely different, something more uncomfortable. 

Jon ambled out of the café and hung back a bit, waiting for Trip to shoot his shot. Malcolm glanced over at him and then back to Trip, almost pleading with his eyes for Jon to take him away.

“Huh, well.” Trip faltered for a moment, thinking hard about what he was going to say. “I just wanted to come say hello and that it was nice to see you. You’ve been on my mind.” Trip flashed a million dollar grin, his azure eyes lighting up his round face. 

Malcolm melted. “That’s rather kind of you to say,” he mumbled, looking away for a moment to hide a blush. He couldn’t deny, the man was particularly charming in a forward hick sort of way. 

“Well-” Trip began, before Jon yelled at him from the car.

“Trip, I’ve got to go. Come on!” He had walked around to the driver’s side of the Malibu and started to get in the car. “It was nice to meet you, Dr. Reed. I hope your semester goes well.” Jon raised his eyebrows and jerked his chin toward the car at Trip, motioning him to stop harassing the British stranger.    
  
“Huh, well, I guess I’ve got ta go…” Trip looked a little deflated, but was still rosy-cheeked. He offered his hand to Malcolm. Malcolm took it and shook it gently. “Call me?” Trip asked eagerly. 

“Maybe,” Malcolm deadpanned, letting go of the tall, blonde, beautiful Southerner’s hand. Trip walked away and threw one last look over his shoulder at the Brit before getting in the Malibu.

“Smooth, Trip.” Jon teased. “Smooth.” 

“You broke the reverie, Jon! I was tryin’ ta’ get ta’ know the man, maybe get him to give me his number so I could call him first. But ya had ta’ go and tell ‘im we needed ta’ leave.” Trip huffed. 

“He looked like a deer caught in headlights, Trip. I had to save him from you. You’re like a Golden Retriever - you won’t stop until you’ve fetched the duck. But he’s a man, not a duck. You’ve got to let people move at their own pace.” Jon laughed and pulled away from Millies, passing the red Civic on the way. Trip smiled out the window at Malcolm as they drove off, but the Brunette was looking fixedly down into his lap at something Trip couldn’t see.

Malcolm was texting Travis. 

TM: How’d it go with the mechanic?

MR: He cornered me at my car!

TM: But how did it GO

MR: I don’t know

MR: Awkward!!!

TM: Isn’t that usually how things go with people you’re trying to flirt with?

MR: I don’t know!! What do I do

TM: What do you WANT to do?

MR: I don’t know!

TM: Call him

MR: No way

TM: Do you want to talk to him

MR: I mean he seems nice but I don’t know!

TM: Then text him instead! 

MR: Texting is for children

TM: You’re texting right now, Malcolm

MR: …

TM: Just text him. He doesn’t have your number but you have his. 

TM: If you want anything to happen you have to take the first step.

About halfway back to Tucker & Sons, Trip’s phone chimed. 

Unknown sender: Hello, Trip?

Unknown sender: This is Malcolm. 

Trip whooped. 

“What?!” Jon asked, startled by Trip’s outburst. 

“HE TEXTED ME!” Trip rolled the window down and howled in celebration.

MR: Ok I texted him

TM: Let me know when you’ve got a date ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :') happy holigays again   
> i'll keep tryin' to update regularly; hope this gives u some joy  
> also i hope u noticed the easteregg @squeakysparkles


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> malcolm reaches out.

“I told ya he’d get back ta’ me!” Trip said, his voice full of joy.

“I can’t believe you, Trip.” Jon laughed. “Also you said he’d  _ call  _ you.”

“Whatever! This calls fer a celebration, Jon!” 

“Have you even replied to him yet?” Jon asked, incredulous. 

“Well, no not yet, I’m tryin’ ta’ formulate the perfect response. It’s only been a minute.” Trip rolled his eyes and pulled his thumb up and down on the phone screen, dragging the messages back and forth nervously. 

“Don’t think too hard or you’ll scare him away,” Jon teased. 

“Hey now!”

Jon cackled and glanced over at Trip before returning his eyes to the road. “Jokes aside, I’m happy for you, Trip. He is goodlooking. And has a PhD! I wasn’t sure you were being completely forthcoming.” 

“When have I lied to you, Jon?” Trip smiled, now holding his phone in both hands and concentrating on the screen as if the perfect response would magically appear if he thought hard enough. 

“Are you kidding? What about the million times you’ve lied to me about water polo scores just to get a rise out of me? Or tricked me into getting a rotate and balance so you could hijack my lunch and flirt with a strange man?” Jon shot Trip an incredulous look from the driver’s seat and shook his head. 

“Oh come on, today doesn’t count.” Trip groaned in exasperation.

“Yes, it does. Besides, you’ve done it to me before.”    
  
“Fool you three times…” Trip mumbled, still fiddling with his phone. He hadn’t even begun typing yet. He was just staring at the screen blankly, still surprised Malcolm had even responded. He had seemed so hesitant at the cafe.  _ But I swore I saw Malcolm blush while we were talking… but he had also been at the cafe with another man. He did text me, though.  _

“Trip what are you even doing over there? You’re never quiet this long.” The Malibu pulled into the Tucker & Sons parking lot, just in front of the door. They sat in the car a few moments while Trip tapped furiously on his phone screen.

TT: Hey :) 

TT: You got the right number 

MR: Good 

MR: I was beginning to wonder 

TT: Sorry was distracted on the drive back 

MR: It is a nice drive through the scenic swamp

TT: There’s nothing wrong with the swamp!

MR: Sure if you like still water and mosquitoes and gnats 

TT: That’s my home you’re talking about

MR: You can have it

TT: My pleasure 

There was a lull for a moment and Trip brazenly double texted.

TT: You’re not texting and driving are you?

MR: (I’m not receiving notifications. If this is urgent, reply “urgent” to send a notification through with your original message.)

TT: I guess you’re driving now 

MR: I just got home sorry

MR: And no I do not text and drive

MR: Do you think I’m some kind of monster

TT: Of course not! Just didn’t want to distract you

MR: How kind 

“Trip.” Jon waved his hand over Trip’s phone screen, obstructing his view and breaking his concentration. “I need to get back to town to see the Admiral and your dad’s gonna kick your ass if you don’t get back in the shop.” 

Trip shoved Jon’s arm and pocketed his phone. “Fine. Thanks for the ride and unexpectedly being my wingman. Even though you’re a terrible wingman.” Trip cackled and exited the car. Jon started to pull away but paused for a moment and rolled his window down. Trip was walking inside but turned as Jon called out. 

“Don’t herd him, lover boy!” Jon rolled the window back up and the car made its way out of the parking lot and down the road. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :’) i’m proud of malcolm for initiating. they’re so bantery.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An arrangement is made.

“Son, how many times am I gonna have ta’ tell ya’ in a day ta’ get off that phone and do yer job? There’s a customer waitin’ outside!” Mr. Tucker snapped at Trip from the doorway of the shop. His cheeks were red with frustration and he lingered in the doorway until Trip got up and walked through one of the garage doors toward the waiting customer with a huff. 

One of the mechanics, a man in his mid forties with a patch on his button up that read “Hayes” walked up to Mr. Tucker and clapped him on the shoulder. “He’s got it bad, doesn’t he Charles?” 

The man was about six feet tall and had a military style crew cut. He was built like a tank, all muscle and density. A smug smile crept up into his cheeks as he watched Trip charm the new customer into getting their special Summer Road-trip Diagnostic. “That kid is something else.” He muttered. 

Mr. Tucker laughed and shook his head. “He’s always got it bad. But I ain’t seen him act like this since Natalie. And you know how that ended.” He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped the sweat from his brow and sighed. 

“Do you know who it is?” Hayes asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No! That’s the damndest part. He’s been so tight lipped about it. Usually he can’t keep his mouth shut but he’s holdin’ this one close.” Mr. Tucker pondered for a moment before saying, “I guess I could bribe Jon ta’ tell me, though. I imagine if I’m not gettin’ an earful he is.” 

Trip walked back through the garage and paused where Hayes and Mr. Tucker were standing. “Can I help y’all with somethin’? The customer’s waitin fer a salesperson in the lobby…” He trailed off, blocked by the two men in the doorway. 

Hayes laughed and shook his head then turned and walked back into the shop, busying himself with cleaning up rags and putting tools away. Mr. Tucker raised an eyebrow at Trip and stayed in the doorway for a moment. “Why’re ya’ spendin’ so much time on yer phone today, Trip?” 

Trip hesitated, flexing his hands nervously. “Just catching up with friends.” He left it simple. It was easier that way. He didn’t feel like getting into it with his father right now, not in the shop, not with Hayes eavesdropping from only a bay over.

“Just some friends, huh?” He nudged Trip and winked, egging him on.

“Come on, I gotta get in the lobby unless yer gonna help the customer!” Trip fussed. He tried to maneuver around his father who continued to block the doorway for a few seconds before letting Trip through. 

“Alright, alright. Go take care of ‘em, son.” Mr. Tucker rested his hand on Trip’s shoulder as he passed through the doorway. Trip walked over to the customer and laid on the charm, leading them to the counter and getting them through the paperwork. As Trip busied himself with work, Mr. Tucker went back to his office and sat down to complete some work of his own. 

Once Trip was finished with the work order and the customer left, he positioned himself on the stool behind the counter and pulled out his phone.    
  


TT: So classes start on Monday?   


MR: Fortunately or unfortunately for me, yes  


TT: How many students are you going to have?!  


MR: Roughly 75  


TT: Holy cow! That’s a lot of grading  


MR: We shall see   
MR: I might have a TA  


TT: You deserve a TA with that many kids to look after  


MR: I’m not their parent  


TT: Whatever you know what I meant   


MR: I’m not quite sure I do   


TT: ok DR. REED I see you’re nobody’s parent   


MR: Do not call me “Dr. Reed” for the love of God   


TT: Or what   


MR: I’ll be forced to grade you on your creativity  


TT: My creativity?!   


MR: Yes, so far it has been lacking, I think   


TT: Lacking?!!   


MR: Yes, that’s what I said  
MR: Points off for redundancy  


TT: Wth    


MR: Points off for laziness   


TT: omfg stop   


MR: Points off for improper case    


TT: …   


MR: Unnecessary ellipse   


TT: Ok Malcolm I get it   


MR: Good   
MR: :)  


TT: Hold on a sec, I’ve got another customer  


MR: I’ll let you get to that   
MR: I’ve distracted you at work too long and I have things I need to get together   
MR: Talk to you soon  


TT: Damn, ok ttys 

Trip smiled down at his phone and sighed before standing to greet another customer entering the shop. “What can I do fer ya?” 

\----------

Malcolm blinked and set his phone down on his desk. He felt a bit overwhelmed with all of the paperwork crowding him, the drained battery on his laptop, the constant chiming of his phone. Not only had he been texting with Trip nonstop for the last hour, each time he got an e-mail a blasted notification came through. Fed up with the incessant noise, Malcolm navigated through his settings and disabled the notifications for his email application.  _ I’ll leave the notifications for when I am able to check my email on my computer. Otherwise I’ll go bloody mad. And it’s not even the first day! _

Malcolm groaned and set his phone back down. He got up from his chair and ambled to the kitchen to get a glass of water and something to eat. He couldn’t remember if he had eaten that morning or not and it was now half past noon. Malcolm opened the fridge and surveyed it for something filling. Alas, there was nothing. He’d gone shopping only days before but had neglected to meal prep in the meantime. He’d ordered tacos the first night in his apartment, he’d made use of some frozen meals for a few days, and now he only had fresh produce and frozen meat. “Bloody brilliant!” He muttered to himself. 

Malcolm thought for a moment.  _ Maybe Trip would like to go to lunch?  _

MR: Hey  


TM: Malcolm!!!!  


MR: I have a question  


TM: Shoot  


MR: I want to ask Trip to lunch  


TM: That’s not a question  
TM: But do it!!!  


MR: But it’s so soon  


TM: Malcolm, people hook up after talking for 3 seconds on grindr you’re fine  


MR: Travis!!  


TM: What  


MR: You know what!!!  
MR: This isn’t grindr!  


TM: That’s the point I’m making  
TM: Just ask him  
TM: It could be fun  


MR: A distraction from this mess of lesson prep would be welcome  


TM: Exactly  


MR: But what if he says no  


TM: He’s not going to say no  
TM: Didn’t you see how he was chomping at the bit to talk to you at Millies?  
TM: He gave you his phone number and asked you to call him twice  


MR: We have been talking a lot these past few days   


TM: I know  
TM: Ask him  


MR: Okay okay  


TM: Also you didn’t even ask me how I’m doing   


MR: Sorry you’re right  
MR: Wanna get coffee tomorrow and chat before things get intense on Monday?  


TM: Absolutely  
TM: Millies again?   


MR: Of course  


TM: Noon?  


MR: Sounds good  


TM: See you there  
TM: Come prepared to tell all  


MR: I promise I will be forthcoming with as many details as are pertinent  


TM: Leave your word soup at home, Professor  
TM: Bring the gossip

Malcolm fidgeted with his phone for a moment before opening the text conversation with Trip.  _ Am I really going to do this?  _

MR: Hey 

TT: I thought you had stuff to do?

MR: I do

TT: Then what’s the pleasure

MR: That depends

TT: On what

MR: Are you hungry?

TT: Where is this going…?

MR: Don’t be uncouth

TT: I’ll have you know I’m a perfect gentleman

MR: Prove it

TT: Give me a chance and I will

MR: I believe this is your chance

TT: Can you be a little more specific please?

MR: Have you had lunch yet?

TT: No actually  
TT: Why are you takin me out

MR: Actually, yes  
MR: Is there anything good halfway between Nowhere and Panama

TT: Hey it’s not nowhere!  
TT: And there’s this nice little barbecue place  
TT: It’s got the meanest catfish from here to the coast  
TT: Except maybe my uncle’s place but we won’t tell him I said that

MR: I’m not sure about aggressive fish

TT: I’m sure they’ll have something to your liking

MR: Promise me there’s more than fish on the menu

TT: I promise  
TT: I’ll send you the address in a second  
TT: See you in fifteen?

MR: I’ll be there

Malcolm grabbed his keys and wallet, slipped into his shoes, and headed out of his apartment to his car. His stomach was churning. He couldn’t tell whether it was from the hunger or the nerves and settled on it being a combination of both. He really asked this man out for lunch. Lunch at least seemed less serious than dinner, though maybe dinner could follow soon. He wasn’t really sure what he wanted from this. He seemed to enjoy Trip’s digital company well enough. He had a certain charm about him, in a yank sort of way. He was funny and witty, which was nice. Malcolm hadn’t texted anyone like this in a while. It was easy with Trip. Maybe they could just be friends, maybe it didn’t have to be more than that. Not for now, at least. But he already knew he wanted more. He could feel it sitting in his stomach, that weight of infatuation. It was so terribly uncomfortable, but welcome. His phone chimed and the address for the barbecue spot came through. He tapped the address, stuck his phone in the holder on his dashboard, and drove toward the restaurant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve been updating daily in the afternoon my time, but I’m not sure how long that will last with some approaching scholarship/uni deadlines and general life stuff. I will try to stay consistent, but expect updates to get less frequent. As a tradeoff, however, I think the chapters will be longer than they have been starting with this one. This is a *long* fic, so to those of you who have stuck around, I wanted to thank you immensely. You have inspired me to write more, and I haven’t written this much in years. Thank you so much for your readership and comments and kudos. It truly means so much to me. I hope that this fic continues to make you smile and keep you interested! Much love <3


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a date.

Trip pulled into the gravel parking lot of the small restaurant. He could smell the fragrant smoke from the barbecue from inside his old pickup. The building looked like a wooden shack. It was painted white, but chipped and worn from years of age. The roof was covered in red corrugated metal. There were large windows in the front, showcasing the tiny dining room. There were only four old diner tables with two chairs each and one little six-foot counter with an antique cash register. They were also outfitted with a retro Coca Cola refrigerator that was stocked with bottled and canned drinks. The kitchen was clearly small as well, and the cooks could be seen through an unassuming window behind the counter, puttering about and preparing food. There was a smoker out back, billowing as it slow-cooked pork and brisket. 

Trip had been coming here since he was a child. The owners were family friends and Trip went to school with the now adult children of the owner. It was Trip’s favorite place to get catfish. It was crispy and the batter was so flavorful, a bit on the spicy side. He hoped Malcolm liked spice. He wasn’t really sure what Malcolm liked yet. They hadn’t talked about anything particularly substantial - they mostly just bantered back and forth. Trip was excited to spend time with Malcolm in person and hoped he could glean more information about the illusive Brit than he’d given so far.

Trip walked through the front door and sat at one of the tables. A waiter came over to greet him. He ordered two waters and a sweet tea and asked for a second menu. As the waiter walked away, Malcolm came through the doors, peering hesitantly about the room. He spotted Trip and made his way over.  _ He’s always dressed so fashionably _ , Trip thought. Today he was wearing all black - a fitted t-shirt and black slacks with a black belt and silver buckle. His shoes were black suede loafers and he was wearing black and white patterned socks that peaked out of his pants when he walked. The man was downright beautiful. 

“Hello,” he said softly as he pulled out the chair and sat down.   
  
“Hey,” Trip smiled. He had refrained from tacking a  _ gorgeous  _ onto his greeting.

“Have you ordered already?” Malcolm asked, setting his phone and keys out of the way on the windowsill next to the table. 

“Not yet. Waiter’s comin’ back with some water’n menus. I didn’t know what ya’ like so I figured water was safe.” Trip leaned back in his seat and laced his fingers behind his head. 

“An astute observation. I prefer my fluids in the form of water, generally speaking.” Malcolm sat up straight with his hands resting in his lap. He nervously rubbed his thumb with his forefinger under the table.    
  
“So what if we were speakin’ specifically?” Trip asked, raising an eyebrow.    
  
“I am partial to a cup of tea as well.” 

“Tea’s my favorite drink,” Trip said, knowing he and Malcolm had very different ideas about what tea is supposed to be like. He was not-so-subtly baiting the Brit into an argument.

“What you drink, I presume, is a bastardization of a perfectly good beverage  _ without _ the addition of loads of sugar and, even more monstrously, poured over ice.” 

“Yer in Florida, Malcolm. What yer sayin’ is heresy ‘round these parts.” Trip snickered. 

“Far be it from me to criticize Yank traditions while residing in  _ Florida. _ ” Malcolm rolled his eyes. 

Trip laughed heartily and smiled.  _ This man. _ Trip was unused to someone joking with him so effortlessly. Except maybe Jon, but he didn’t count. It was exhilarating. The precise way Malcolm enunciated every word helped too. And his accent. And the way he raised one eyebrow and smirked so expressively.

The waiter reappeared at the table with two menus, two waters, and one sweet tea as promised. “I’ll leave you two boys a few minutes to get acquainted with the menu.” They disappeared just as quickly as they had arrived.   
  
“I already know what I want,” Trip said enthusiastically. “Do ya’ need help choosin’?”   
  
Malcolm was fixed on reading the menu and didn’t answer Trip immediately. After a few moments pause, he said, “I think I’m going to get the brisket.”    
  
“Good choice! It’s some of the best brisket I’ve ever tasted.” 

Trip leaned forward in his seat and rested his chin on his fist. He gazed at Malcolm shamelessly. The other man looked up from the menu and met his clear blue eyes. Trip wondered what it would be like to taste Malcolm’s full lips that he was nervously pursing.

“Can I help you?” He asked, smirking. Trip could swear he was blushing. His cheeks looked a little more rosy than they had only a moment ago.

“That depends,” Trip sighed, still staring. He felt like he was drowning in those stormy grey eyes. 

“On what?” Malcolm asked quizzically. 

Trip grazed his knuckles with his teeth for a moment, imagining what it would be like to lean over and kiss the man seated before him. He was getting ahead of himself; he was going to burst and he could feel warmth pooling in his cheeks. 

“I’m sorry, what?” Trip pulled his hand away and bit his lip, still staring intently into Malcolm’s eyes.   
  
Malcolm blinked and looked back down at the menu. “Nevermind,” he said softly, fidgeting with a piece of plastic that had come away from the lamination on the menu. He looked up as the waiter returned to his side at the table.    
  
“What’ll you gentlemen be having this afternoon?” They procured a small receipt book and pen from their apron.

Trip pulled his gaze away from Malcolm and looked up at the waiter earnestly. “I’ll have the catfish plate with fries, and Louisiana Hot Sauce on the side, please.” 

The waiter nodded and took down his order.    
  
“May I please have the brisket with a side salad?”    
  
“Yes of course. Will that be all?”    
  
“Yes-” they chimed in unison. The waiter smiled pleasantly and went back behind the counter where they put in the order for the cooks. 

The two men ate in relative silence. Malcolm thought the food was decent and Trip was clearly enjoying himself. Malcolm regarded him curiously, enamored with the happy sounds Trip was making as he ate. 

“Well, that hit the spot,” Trip said, smiling and wiping his face gingerly with a napkin.

“It was pleasant.” Malcolm nodded. 

“You sure? You still have half a serving on yer plate!” Trip looked concerned. _Didn't he like it?_

“I’m not very hungry.” Malcolm set his fork down, done with his meal. 

“Have you eaten today?” Trip asked. “You made it seem like you hadn’t eaten anything earlier.”

“Well, I hadn’t. But I’m done now. It’s fine.” Malcolm waved him off. 

Trip’s brow furrowed. “So this is all ya’ve eaten today?!”

“I’m fine for now, really.” 

“Well at least take what’s left home with ya.” Trip stared at him incredulously. 

“Waiter can we get a box please?” Trip called from the table. The waiter nodded and brought a box and the check over. Trip grabbed the check and pulled out his card, handing them back to the waiter in a flash of movement. 

“But-” Malcolm started.

“But nothin’.” Trip raised his eyebrows in a challenge. 

Malcolm looked indignant. “I’m the one who asked you out. And I didn’t ask for a box.” He frowned.

“You didn’t eat enough. Besides there ain’t no use in wastin’ food. An I’ve been tryin’ ta get yer attention fer days so just lemme do this.” 

Trip had already taken Malcolm’s plate and shoveled the remaining brisket and salad in the box so that they weren’t touching. He grabbed a purple gel pen out of his pocket and scrawled "Malcolm" on the top of the Styrofoam takeout container with a little smiley face and a heart next to it. 

“Here ya go. Somethin’ fer later.” He grinned and scooted the leftovers across the table toward Malcolm. 

Malcolm blinked and rested one hand on the box. “Thank you.” 

The waiter came back with Trip’s card and receipt. “Y’all have a wonderful day now,” they said and then disappeared into the kitchen. 

“I guess I better be gettin’ back to the shop before my daddy has a cow.” Trip rubbed the back of his head, clearly hesitant to leave. 

“This was nice.” Malcolm said quietly. He didn’t get up either. 

“What if we do it again sometime, but you pick where we go so you actually enjoy what yer eating?” Trip chuckled.

“I enjoyed it just fine.” Malcolm paused. “I would like that, though. Maybe dinner instead of lunch?” 

“Dinner would be great. And a movie if you’re up for it.” Trip winked. 

“We could arrange for that.” 

“Sounds good. Let’s get outta here so they can clear the table.”  Trip stood and waited for Malcolm. He followed the shorter man to the door but cut in front of him just in time to open the door for him. Malcolm almost ran into him, not expecting it.

“I can open doors for myself, thanks.” He growled. 

“I didn’t think ya couldn’t open a door, I just wanted to.” Trip countered.

Malcolm didn’t say anything. He thought about snapping more but realized Trip really was trying to be a gentleman like he had said. 

“Er- I didn’t mean-”

“It’s okay, I just like to do that kinda stuff fer people. My dad was real strict about manners growin’ up. So now I try to treat people with the respect they deserve.” Trip smiled warmly.

They had made their way to Malcolm’s car. He unlocked it and put the leftovers in the passenger seat. He waited for Trip to leave before he got in, but the tall blond man was still hovering. “Um. It’s been nice, Trip. Thank you for lunch.” 

“Saturday.” Trip said decidedly.

“Pardon?” 

Trip leaned a shoulder against the little red Civic. 

“We’ll go out for dinner on Saturday. Celebrate yer first week of classes. I’ll meet ya in town and we can go somewhere ya like and catch a movie after. I can pick you up around 7.” 

“Pick me up?” Malcolm asked skeptically. 

“Yeah, I’ll have you home by curfew, I promise.” A huge grin covered his face. Malcolm blushed. 

“It’ll be fun.” Trip clapped him on the shoulder.

Malcolm just stared up into his deep blue eyes and shook his head. He was so forward, so sure of himself. __

“What have I gotten myself into?” Malcolm muttered.

“You ain’t seen nothin’ yet.” 

Trip’s hand was still on Malcolm’s shoulder. He squeezed it for a moment and took a step closer. Malcolm froze.  _ Oh my god he’s going to kiss me.  _ He wasn’t sure what to do. He couldn’t kiss this man yet it was too soon. As he was formulating a way to get out of it he felt a strong arm wrap around his shoulders briefly in a warm hug. It was just a hug, and it was over as fast as it had begun. Trip laughed happily and walked away to his Truck.

“See ya on Saturday, Malcolm. Text me when you get home.” And then he pulled out of the gravel driveway and off toward Tucker & Sons. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :""")  
> thank you all so much for your feedback! i really enjoyed writing this chapter. they're in the habit of mutual pining.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trip gets harassed (lovingly).

Trip got back to the shop in record time. He didn’t want Mr. Tucker on his case for being on his phone  _ and  _ being late back from lunch for the second time in a week. When he came inside, Mr. Tucker was chatting with a customer at the counter. Trip nodded a greeting and went into the shop. There was only one car on a lift, and another one sitting on the ground in a bay with the door open. The mechanic was logging their work on a computer terminal so they could pull it around. Trip walked over to Hayes, who was working under the last car, so he could help him finish the job more quickly.

“Where have you been all day, kid?” Hayes greeted him. He wiped his brow with the back of a greasy hand. He was twisting an oil pan drain plug back into place. 

Trip grabbed the new oil filter off the cart next to the car and handed it to him. “Well, I was here all mornin’ if ya hadn’t noticed.” 

“I did,” Hayes replied gruffly as he twisted the old oil filter off and more oil poured out into the carefully placed drain pan. “But you were a little distracted all morning and then you disappeared.” He wiped a bit of oil on the gasket of the new filter and twisted it onto the car.

“I didn’t come over here to get interrogated,” Trip growled. “Is there anythin’ else this car needs?” 

“Rotate.” Hayes grunted again. He pulled the drain pan out from under the car and put it back in the oil room. By the time he came back, Trip had already lowered the car to chest height and grabbed an impact gun. He was removing the lug nuts from one of the wheels when Hayes came up behind him, wiping his hands with a rag. 

“But where did you go for lunch? You seemed in a hurry to get out of here.” He raised a brow.

When Trip was done with the lugs he moved away to the next tire and started again, ignoring Hayes’ inquiry. 

“Hey kid, I’m talking to you.” Hayes jabbed.

“I know.” Trip said matter of factly. When he was done with the second set of lugs, he removed the tire and brought it to the other side of the lift where he started. Hayes mirrored his action and they both put the tires on the studs and replaced the lugs. 

“Got a torque stick?” Trip asked Hayes. 

The man brought a metal attachment over to Trip. It was coated in a green polymer. He attached it to the impact gun and reapplied the lugs to the studs on each tire. They repeated the process on the other side of the vehicle. Trip went to put the tools away and wrap up the air hose on its holder and Hayes busied himself lowering the car and torquing the wheels. When he was done he went over to the terminal to enter the job completion paperwork and print a sticker for the oil change. Trip walked past him to go into the lobby with his phone in hand but Hayes stopped him. 

“Who is it?” Hayes asked inquisitively.

“What?” Trip asked, pocketing his phone.

“You’re never like this unless you’re chasing tail.” Hayes smirked tauntingly.

“Oh shut up,” Trip scoffed and walked into the lobby. 

“Son clean yer hands! Ya’ve got tire dust all over ya.” Mr. Tucker admonished. 

“Sorry.” Trip walked back into the shop to clean his hands and found Hayes doing the same. He thought about turning around and walking away but stayed to wash his hands instead, lest Mr. Tucker get on his case again. 

“Back so soon?” 

Trip just waggled his fingers at Hayes and washed his hands.

“So you’re not gonna tell me who you’re after this time? It’s not Natalie again is it?” 

“You’re like a dog chasin’ a bone, Hayes.” He sighed and turned the water off, toweling his hands dry. “It ain’t Natalie. That ship sailed a long time ago.” 

“But there is someone?” Hayes asked. Trip’s phone chirped in his pocket right on cue. 

“Go take the customer their car. I’ll ring ‘em out if my dad hasn’t got to ‘em already.” Trip turned on his heel and walked back into the lobby. Mr. Tucker smiled at Trip. The last customer had just walked out the door. 

“Hey, son. How was lunch?” 

“Oh my god y’all are killin’ me.” Trip heaved a sigh. 

“Watch yer tone with me, boy!” Mr. Tucker scowled.

“Lunch was fine, dad.” Trip sat on a stool next to his father. His phone chirped again. 

“Yer phone seems ta’ be doin’ more talk in’ ‘n ya right now. Who is it messagin’ ya when yer on the clock?” 

“Dad.” Trip warned, growing exceedingly irritated with all of the questioning. 

“Son.” Mr. Tucker stifled a laugh. It was so easy to rile him up. “Ya better tell ‘em yer too busy ta be textin’ all day er they can come in an’ help ya.” 

“There ain’t anyone here right now! And I really don’t think he’d be able to help anyone.” Trip shook his head and scoffed. 

“Who is “he”?” Mr. Tucker asked. 

“No one, dad. Why are you so interested in who I’m talkin’ ta today?” 

“It ain’t just today, boy! Ya’ve been glued ta' yer phone fer a week! Don’t I have a right ta’ know who’s distractin’ ya?!” His voice had raised in true exasperated Tucker fashion. 

“No!” Trip answered, irritated. 

“Besides ya ain’t had anyone text ya this much in months. I’m just curious who’s got my boy all worked up.” 

“I’m only worked up cause you an’ Hayes’ve been givin’ me the third degree since I got back from lunch!” Trip’s cheeks were red now, embarrassment showing through the anger. “Can’t y’all just leave me alone?” 

Trip stood abruptly and walked out the front door of the lobby to get some air. He pulled his phone out of his pocket to check his texts and saw they were from Malcolm. 

MR: Home  
MR: I really don’t feel like working right now  
MR: There is so much paperwork in being a professor, Trip   
  
TT: Hey glad you made it home safe   
TT: What kinda paperwork are we talking?  
TT: You should see everything involved at the shop

MR: Oh, just syllabi, rosters, lesson plans, handouts, etc.  
MR: The sea of papers is endless  
MR: Can you imagine how many trees we kill for all this   
  
TT: Too many   
TT: We’ve killed our fair share at the shop, unfortunately   
  
MR: You wouldn’t think an auto mechanic had much use for paper   
  
TT: It’s all the forms and reports   
  
MR: That makes sense  
MR: Are you busy at the shop today?   
  
TT: Not too bad   
TT: Last customer just left   
TT: Might get some more in a little bit but we don’t have any appointments for the rest of the day  
TT: Just your casual oil change or walk-in 

MR: Interesting   
MR: What if I told you my tire might be flat again   
  
TT: No!   
TT: That would be terrible ;)   
TT: Except I aired up your spare so you wouldn’t need a tow again   
  
MR: That’s your mistake  
MR: What if I don’t know how to use the spare   
  
TT: I could give you another tow I suppose   
TT: But you don’t have a flat tire do you   
  
MR: Fortunately not  
MR: Just thought I could give you something to do   
  
TT: I can do a lot more than fix a flat ;)

  
Mr. Tucker came outside. He hovered behind Trip for a second before putting his hand on his shoulder. “Son,” he said softly. “I just want ya ta' be happy. Whatever makes ya happy.”    
  
Trip groaned and turned around to face his father. “Dad, I’m fine. I’m happy. I’m ecstatic even! I just don’t feel like talkin’ about it right now. We can talk about it later, alright?”    
  
“How about tonight over dinner. Yer mama would love ta see ya’. It’s been a few days.” He smiled at his son brightly. “She’s makin’ catfish.”    
  
“Alright, dad, alright. Now let’s get back inside before the sun eats us alive.” Trip shook his head and laughed, following his father back into the store.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :') I'm so enjoying writing this. Sorry for the deep dive into Trip-land. He's so easy to write I just had to do more. I'll be jumping back and forth between his and Malcolm's perspectives pretty frequently. Hope it works for y'all!

**Author's Note:**

> ok yall i NEED this fic so i'm writing it. i feel like i haven't seen enough not-on-a-starship-or-alien-planet AUs. i need ST but not in the ST-verse. so. this is my first attempt.


End file.
